


Bloody Mosaic

by diddlydang



Series: The Ferdibert Collection [11]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ferdinand Needs A Hug, Hurt Ferdinand, Hurt/Comfort, I finally wrote Lorenz and Ferdie friendship, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-24 17:26:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21341965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diddlydang/pseuds/diddlydang
Summary: "Ferdinand,” Hubert says, and Ferdinand knows he will hate the next words out of his mouth. “I know you still aren’t sleeping well. If it’s affecting you in battle then maybe-”Indignation and anger rise in him like it used to whenever they were around each other. It feels completely foreign now that they’re lovers. “I take one hit and you doubt my abilities? You think me no longer suited for battle?”“If this was the first one many mistakes, then yes, I doubt you,” Hubert says firmly. “I won’t have you dying because of something so simple as a lack of sleep.”Simple? The word echoes around his head. The rage he feels unsettles him. He’s tempted to tear his hair out and scream at him, Simple?! You think this is simple?“I see,” Ferdinand swallows back the harsh words that lay on the tip of his tongue. The next sentence comes out all the same. “It won’t happen again, Minister.”Hubert’s jaw twitched, the muscles flexing in his face. “See that it doesn’t, Prime Minister.”Inside Ferdinand, something else breaks.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Series: The Ferdibert Collection [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480094
Comments: 26
Kudos: 504





	Bloody Mosaic

**Author's Note:**

> I struggled with this for a while and now I'm just sick of looking at it so!!! Take it!!!

A hand gently shaking his shoulder wakes him up.

“Ferdinand?”

Ferdinand startles; which causes his chair to tilt back and him nearly knocking over a candle - that was still lit, mind you - off the table. Hubert, ever vigilant, saved him from causing what could be one of the embarrassing things he’d done in front of Hubert - and trust him, he made himself out to be a fool more than enough - and caught his chair, calmly setting it back on the floor. 

“It’s nearly morning,” Hubert says. Ferdinand finds it completely unfair how calm he is, seeing as his heart is about to give out. “You never came to bed last night. I assume you fell asleep while working.”

“Were you waiting up on me? Goddess, I’m sorry.” His books are scattered about the table. Ferdinand holds up a piece of paper and tries to make out his notes. To his horror, they’re all too slurred and jumbled for him to make anything useful out of them. He scowls and sets it down. “Ugh. What a waste.”

“I figured you got caught up, don’t fret too much over it. I know how you get.” Hubert said as he leaned over before grimacing. “Even I can’t read that, Ferdinand. You need to sleep.”

“No,” Hubert had mentioned it was morning, hadn’t he?. “Do we not have a meeting today? I must prepare for that.”

“Don’t go to the meeting,” Hubert suggests, although his tone gave away how much he knew Ferdinand would not do that. “I’ll inform Lady Edelgard of the situation.”

“You will do no such thing!” Ferdinand stood, perhaps too hastily because his head felt too much like a puddle. He trips slightly, Hubert’s hands are on him at once steadying him. It takes a moment for his head to clear. When it does, he realizes he’s holding onto Hubert for balance. “Thank you, darling, but you can let go now. I promise I won’t fall over. 

“Somehow I’m having trouble believing that,” Hubert says dryly, but after a few more seconds he lets him go.

His concern was touching, even if it was unnecessary.

True to his word, Ferdinand can stand straight, albeit a little unsteadily. Ferdinand has to not sigh in relief. It would have been embarrassing to fall over right after saying he was fine. He can only handle so much embarrassment before he faints, and if he did, there was no way he’d be able to avoid Hubert’s overbearing side.

\---

He’d been lagging behind the entire fight.

Ferdinand knew of this; any worthwhile chevalier knows when they aren’t performing at their best, and he’s rather good at what he does. Still, the spear ripping through his side takes him by surprise. 

It’s not terrible pain, he’s endured much worse over the years, but the shock of it is what gets him.

Gloved hands touched his back, trying to turn him over, but the rough texture of the leather met his skin through a hole in his coat. The feeling made him sick and he reeled away from the touch, wound burning as he flailed. It gripped him harder in his struggle. 

“-inand! You’re making your injury worse, stop moving!” 

Hubert.

Ferdinand stopped struggling. He’s grateful when this caused Hubert to pull his hands back - His gloves are leather, how had he forgot - and instead a healing spell is cast over him.

It feels like basking in warm sunlight. It’s terribly relaxing. 

That’s the problem, it makes Ferdinand feel how tired he truly is, and he smacks the hand lit with a healing spell away, breaking the concentration.

“...The battle is over.” Hubert says, carefully looking him over. Ferdinand busies himself with checking over the wound. It’s still open; Hubert’s abilities with healing spells, while acceptable, weren’t quite enough to close it, and he didn’t exactly give him enough time to do the best job. He tears off some of his clothing and dresses the wound.

He saw Hubert reach out to help him before Hubert hesitated, hand hovering there. Ferdinand suspected he was waiting for him to say it’s okay.

(It’s not.

Not right now.

He can’t handle the feel of the-)

Ferdinand bit his lip and pretended not to notice, rechecking the makeshift bandage even though he knows it’s fine. Guilt churns in his gut at ignoring Hubert like that, but he can’t-

He gets rid of the thought before it can fully develop. 

It’s not the time to think about that.

(Ferdinand always says it’s never the time, even when sometimes he should have thought about it, told someone.

This is another one of these times.)

“Are you alright?” Hubert asks him eventually. His voice wasn’t soft, Ferdinand sincerely doubts Hubert can do that, but he can tell that he’s trying to be delicate. 

Ferdinand wanted to appreciate the gesture, he really did. Hubert so rarely showed how concerned he was and he’s trying this time and he can’t respond how he should, he can’t respond how Hubert needs him to.

“I feel fine,” Ferdinand said. They both knew he’s lying. “Aside from taking a spear, that is.”

He knew Hubert was staring at him. Ferdinand can’t bring himself to look back, instead, he checks the bandage, despite having done so about 3 times already. If he looked, he would be too tempted to say the truth. That would be…

Less than ideal, really.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert says, and Ferdinand knows he will hate the next words out of his mouth. “I know you still aren’t sleeping well. If it’s affecting you in battle then maybe-”

Indignation and anger rise in him like it used to whenever they were around each other. It feels completely foreign now that they’re lovers. “I take one hit and you doubt my abilities? You think me no longer suited for battle?”

“If this was the first one many mistakes, then yes, I doubt you,” Hubert says firmly. “I won’t have you dying because of something so simple as a lack of sleep.”

_Simple_? The word echoes around his head. The rage he feels unsettles him. He’s tempted to tear his hair out and scream at him, _Simple?! You think this is simple? _

“I see,” Ferdinand swallows back the harsh words that lay on the tip of his tongue. The next sentence comes out all the same. “It won’t happen again, Minister.”

Hubert’s jaw twitched, the muscles flexing in his face. “See that it doesn’t, Prime Minister.”

Inside Ferdinand, something else breaks.

\---

He and Hubert make up after that. They both are too important to the war to allow their personal life to affect them like this. 

They also love each other very much.

That, however, is secondary right now.

\---

He’s lost himself in his work, Ferdinand knew this. It’s a fact he’d accepted long ago. 

Ferdinand can even acknowledge this made it even worse. He knows what this is doing to him, he’s plunged the sword deep into his own chest and is only driving it deeper, slow enough to where he can convince himself it doesn’t hurt that much.

He’s not good at doing things in moderation, never has been. It’s not a secret, he doubts anyone would disagree if asked. Especially Hubert. He complained about Ferdinand’s gusto to do things almost as much as he complimented him about it.

Hubert’s weird like that.

So Ferdinand acutely knows of what this war has done to him. The truth of it hangs over him like a shadow.

But in reality, who could stay completely themselves during hard times? Pieces get lost and shoved back together like a mosaic you have to convince yourself that you like, convince yourself that it’s still pretty even if the colors don’t mix anymore, even if the shapes that defined it are muddied together. 

His sleep schedule is practically destroyed, the precious few hours he got were restless, leaving him just as tired - if not more - than before. All the time he used to spend on idle pleasures like riding or reading has been completely taken over by writing reports or reviewing strategies with others. The mess of his room has steadily grown worse, broken armor piling up, papers scattered everywhere, candles at the end of their life.

Hubert had commented on it, first it started out fond - “Are you ever going to clean this?” -and then increasingly worried - “Ferdinand, I can barely see the floor.” -.

That was when Ferdinand suggested they stay in Hubert’s room instead.

In short, he’s a mess.

He has been for years.

If he could pinpoint the start, he would say his hair was the first sign that he was slipping.

(Ferdinand doesn’t know that he’s wrong to say this is the start. The real start, the real beginning, happened earlier than him missing his first haircut. It went all the way back to his childhood, the first time his father, Duke Aegir showed just how much he didn’t care for Ferdinand’s opinion.)

It’s not something he’s told someone but the reason his hair had grown so long was that he didn’t have time to get it cut anymore. It used to sting him when people would say how vain it was of him, but now it’s simply the response he expects. Ferdinand can’t remember how many times someone has commented on his hair, friends and strangers alike.

He’d taken it all in stride, gave them a smile and thanked them for noticing his new style.

The picture that made up Ferdinand has slowly been turned into a mishmash mosaic that he worries he won’t be able to recognize soon, colors and shapes changed far too much from the original. 

(The first time pieces were broken and glued back in was when he was a young boy, the first time his father had compared him to Edelgard. He’d convinced himself back then that was what he always was, all he could be.)

But there is a war to win.

He will continue to force the glass together with bleeding fingers. 

It’s been stained red with how much he cuts himself on it.

There is a cost to everything. 

He knows this.

Even so, his heart hurts from what he’s done to himself.

\---

“Ferdinand, are you feeling alright?” 

Ferdinand didn’t look up from the report, “I feel fantastic, thank you for asking.” He stopped reading and looked up at her, “How are you faring? I know all the fighting has been hard on you.”

Dorothea’s face is soft and round. Friendly. Ferdinand will always be grateful she had looked past their issues and become friends. “This isn’t about me, I asked if you’re okay.”

“And I told you I’m fine.” He gave a smile to help reassure her. “See? Merely a little tired, although I believe we all are.”

“Uh-huh.” She raised an eyebrow at him and rested her hands on her hips. “You think I’m going to buy that? Really?” 

“What would you have me say?”

“The truth?” 

Ferdinand, in earlier years, would have gladly agreed to this request. No, he wouldn’t have told her exactly how he felt, that would be wrong of him, but he would have tried to do more to assuage her worries. Maybe something about how he never really wanted this life, that while he understood he had certain duties that didn’t mean he always enjoyed them. 

(His father had despised that fact about him. 

Ferdinand had first used picked up a sword to practice a dance he’d seen Manuela do.

...

No, Duke Aegir had not been pleased.)

As it is, he can only be what this life has molded him into. 

And so Ferdinand told her: “I spoke the truth. I am simply tired.”

She doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t really need her to. All he needed was to get to work. Her lips pursed and she narrowed her eyes at him. Despite this, she still looks at him like he’s a friend. 

It’s a strange juxtaposition.

(Sometimes he wonders about this:

The man his father wanted him to be, the one they had all known him as at the Monastery. 

They hadn’t liked him, no one had. Not really.

It was only after he felt more like what he could be that anyone paid him any real attention.

It’s just something he thinks about is all.)

“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Was what she said before she stalked off. 

He turned back to his report.

The encounter has already been shoved from his mind. Hours later and he won’t even remember talking to her, that she’d expressed concern over him. 

Ferdinand’s glad he had the time to check the report. It calms some of his nerves. The supply lines are holding well and they have kept losses to a minimum. 

He should be in a good mood.

(He’s not in a good mood.

Seeing the death tolls always hurts him. They shouldn’t anymore but he can’t help it, those are the people they’re fighting this war for and they hurt. 

Ferdinand fell apart with each one he saw, little pieces falling away from him. Some are lost in his scramble to frantically fit them back together and some are destroyed when he attempted to shove them back, tries to hold himself together.

He’s losing pieces of himself. Ferdinand watches them slip through his fingers. Ferdinand can’t pick them up. He barely has time to shove the ones he saved back into the mess that’s now what he calls Ferdinand von Aegir. 

So they remain lost, little things that he’ll recover later. He’ll weep when he discovers he’s not completely lost to himself.)

\---

“You seemed on edge today, Ferdinand,” Hubert told him once they’re back from battle. 

Ferdinand idly wipes the blood of his weapon. It smears across his fingertips, staining them. He takes a moment to stare at the color. “We were in battle if you forgot.”

“Mmm. Yet I’ve never seen you quite so aggressive before.”

“My training is yielding results.” He offers. They both know that’s not it. “I didn’t even get hit this time, aren’t you glad?”

“Training’s made you more erratic in battle? More prone to seek out fights you need not be involved in?”

“I go where I think I am needed, Hubert. It was a judgment call.”

“Oh, so your judgment has suffered along with your poor choices? I see.”

He clenched his teeth and increased his grip on his lance. The blood made his fingers sticky. The feeling made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he wondered if this is how Linhardt felt. “You’re the one who’s going to lecture me over this? Really?”

“I have the common sense to know my limits.” Hubert said. 

“Did you not once praise me for not knowing my limits? For trying to better myself?” Ferdinand remembered it well. It was the first time Hubert had ever complimented him, the first thing that had made Ferdinand fall in love with him.

“That was when it was something worthy of praise,” Hubert said. He looked down to where Ferdinand was gripping his weapon. “Now it’s only hurting you. It would benefit you to cease this foolish behavior.”

“How am I being hurt exactly?” 

The skin around Hubert’s eyes tightened when he frowned. He looked frustrated. “You’re changing.”

“But how am I being _hurt_?” Ferdinand repeated himself.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Hubert reaches up and brushes Ferdinand’s hair behind his ear. Ferdinand’s breathing hitches, like it always did whenever Hubert was affectionate like this. 

“Ferdie,” Hubert speaks lowly. “Anything that changes you can only be bad. Remember that.” He presses a soft kiss to Ferdinand’s lips. “Please.” Then he drops his hand and turns to leave. The space he leaves feels like a void.

“Hubert, wait…” Hubert stops and turns back to Ferdinand, the expression still open, so unlike how he usually was. Ferdinand could tell him, should tell him. “I…”

Then he remembers all the problems Hubert has, the ones Ferdinand had spent so long trying to get Hubert to share with him. 

He can’t add to those. 

“I love you.” He says instead.

It’s not a lie, he loves him. He loves Hubert with all his heart. Sometimes it feels like that’s all that’s holding him together anymore.

Hubert smiles at him and Ferdinand can almost tell himself that he’ll be okay. “And I you.”

\---

Ferdinand finishes everything early. 

Edelgard looked happy when he said he’d finished, or at least less stressed. It’s a good look on her.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” She says, “You’ve looked tired for the past few weeks.”

“He has been,” Hubert sighs, “Go on, Ferdinand. I’ll join you soon.”

Ferdinand, who’s slightly off-kilter because he has actual free time, numbly nods and goes to their room and lies on the bed. 

He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep. 

(How many things have gone wrong in the time he’s laid down? How many have they lost?)

It doesn’t work.

Ferdinand doesn’t know how long he lays there, but after what feels like hours he gets back up and goes to see Edelgard and Hubert. 

“Ferdinand.” She blinks at him. “Is something wrong?”

“I need something else to do.” He says, “Please.” 

His fingers itch like glass splinters have gotten stuck in them. Ferdinand wants to scratch at them.

Hands settle over his shoulders, long thumbs stroking at his neck. “No, you don’t,” Hubert says. His voice is low. “Go back to bed, Ferdie. You finished your work early, you’ve earned the break.”

“I don’t want the break, Hubert.” He snaps. The anger is gone as soon as it came. Hubert doesn’t stop the ministrations, if anything, they only increase. “I want- I need something. Surely there’s something else you need to be done?”

Edelgard looks at him. Then she looks over at Hubert. Ferdinand imagines they’re doing the thing where they somehow have a whole conversation just through their eyes. 

“I think you should go to sleep.” She finally says. “I said it earlier, but you look exhausted.”

“Do I?” He knows he does. He also knows she won’t be giving him any work and this is just another waste of time. “Perhaps you’re right.” 

Her eyebrows raise. “You agree?”

_No_, he thinks.

“It appears so.” He said. “Apologies for bothering you. I will go to bed.”

Ferdinand turns too quickly in his haste to leave the room and his vision blacks out, like the time in the library those weeks ago and stumbles in his sudden confusion. He’s able to catch himself on the doorframe, breathing heavily while his head tries to right itself.

“Ferdinand?” Hubert’s voice came from behind him. There’s a hand at his back. The contact makes his head dizzier and when he goes to shrug it off, only for that to make the spinning even worse. Hubert’s hands remain on him.

“Must be more tired than I thought.” He manages. It sounds weak even to him.

Hubert’s fingers flex. “Lady Edelgard-”

“You’re both dismissed for the night.” She doesn’t let him finish. “Ferdinand, please get better.”

He thinks he nods at her, but he’s not sure. Hubert wraps an arm around his waist and puts Ferdinand’s arm over his shoulders. 

They’re both quiet on the way back. Ferdinand’s glad, he thinks talking would make the spinning worse. 

Hubert put him in bed. He looks worried and Ferdinand reaches up to smooth the wrinkle in his brow. He doesn’t like it when Hubert’s anything but happy. He spent too much time with a sour look on his face.

“Do you want to try the tea again?” Hubert asks. “It might help you sleep this time.”

Ferdinand mumbles a, “No,” and draws the blanket around him It didn’t work the first time, it won’t work this time. He heard Hubert let out a quiet sigh before lying in bed. 

Ferdinand grabbed Hubert’s hand, feeling the familiar scarring on mottled black fingers. He squeezed his hand, gratified when Hubert returned the gesture. 

(Hours later, when Hubert knows Ferdinand is asleep, he’ll let out a quiet prayer. 

“Sothis,” he’ll say. It’ll be awkward, horrible. He’s famously atheist, but he’ll be desperate to help his love. “Please, if you truly exist, tell me what to do.” 

There won’t be an answer, of course not, and Ferdinand will never know how lost Hubert felt during this time.)

\---

“Ferdinand, my darling, you look positively dreadful. Has Hubert been keeping you up late?”

“What?” Ferdinand took a minute to replay what Lorenz had said. “No, I’ve been busy with work.”

“Oh.” There’s a faint note of disappointment in his voice. “I had actually hoped Hubert had caused your exhaustion this time. How unfortunate that it’s you working yourself to death.”

Ferdinand sets his cup down a little too harshly and it clacks against the plate. “Why is everyone saying that?”

Lorenz looks briefly down at the cup before his eyebrows pinch. “Ferdinand, I’ve never once seen you treat a teacup like that, and I’ve seen you through quite a few breakdowns.”

“I-” Ferdinand looks down at the teacup and takes in the spilled liquid. He’s about to apologize when his head pounds and he has to quietly set his forehead in his hands.

“Ferdie? Darling?” Lorenz’s voice sounds far away. “Are you well?”

“I am fine, my friend. Give me just a moment.” He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingertips more insistently into his head. 

“Shall I go get Hubert?”

He looks up quickly, blurry vision trying to focus on Lorenz’s purple outline. “What? No.”

“Are the two of you fighting?” 

“No.” He’s relatively sure Lorenz won’t be leaving and he resumes his previous position. “He has more important things to worry about right now.”

“Is that what he told you?” There’s a clear tone of anger. “Why, I-”

“Lorenz.” Lorenz goes quiet. “This is my choice. And he knows I’m not… well. Telling him will only cause him undue stress that I would rather not place on him.”

“Ferdinand-” The disapproval is clear, as is the concern.

“Please, Lorenz. I will be fine, you know me.”

His friend was quiet for a moment, and then gentle hands were brushing through his hair and massaging his scalp. It helps the throbbing in his head and he groans. 

“I know you, perhaps better than anyone else here.” Lorenz says, “And that’s why I worry.”

(Lorenz will tell Hubert about this later. 

While he hadn’t been the greatest advocate for their relationship, he couldn’t deny that it made Ferdinand happier, and he will do anything to secure that happiness.

Hubert, who still isn’t the greatest fan of Lorenz, is thankful for more insight into how Ferdinand felt. He has come to realize that Ferdinand isn’t as upfront about his feelings as he displays.)

“You should know I can take care of myself.”

“I know you need to let other people help you.” The fingers press more. “Like what I’m doing right now.”

Ferdinand doesn’t want to argue anymore, so he stops talking. 

Lorenz must pick up on this because he starts quietly humming instead. 

Ferdinand falls asleep to this. 

\---

He’s still at the table when he wakes up to hear voices. The world around him is fuzzy around the edges, soothing in his half-asleep state.

“-Don’t want to leave him, but I don’t want to wake him up.” Hubert’s voice. There’s a hand on his shoulder that has trembles slightly, also Hubert’s.

“Surely he won’t wake up if we move him.” Edelgard. 

“We?”

Quiet laughter, “I doubt you could carry him all the way back to your room.”

There’s an amused sigh from Hubert, one Ferdinand knows well. “No, I can’t.” The hand on his back strokes up and down and Ferdinand makes a small noise. Hubert stops. 

“Is he awake?”

Hubert moves again and Ferdinand breathes out. “No,” despite his words, Hubert sounds unsure, “I think he’s still asleep.”

Ferdinand mumbles something, less words and more random noises that his sleep-addled brain decides makes good conversation. There’s more hushed laughter and he thinks he should feel offended. 

“I can take him to your room,” Edelgard says, “It’ll be… fun. Remember when I carried Byleth?”

“I do.” The hand pulls away. “May I admit to some concern that you find this fun?”

“No.” Then Ferdinand’s being shifted and he’s in Edelgard’s arms. “You may not. It would be wildly inappropriate for my second-in-command to be questioning me.”

(He’ll be glad he won’t remember this later.)

“Well, let it be said off the record then.” He wrinkles his nose as his hair tickles him and shaky fingers carefully brush his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. 

“That was-”

“Please, I don’t think I could take any teasing from you,” Hubert says. “Can we instead agree to tease Ferdinand about how you had to carry him to bed?”

“Oh, all right.”

She puts him down in bed - or at least he thinks it’s the bed. The pillow is soft under his cheek - and the blanket is pulled over him. It’s nice. There’s more murmuring above him, words that he’s too far gone to catch now. 

It’s the best he’s felt in a while. In a moment of weakness, he lets his exhaustion get the better of him and falls asleep.

(Ferdinand doesn’t realize that he’s put some pieces back. His picture’s still skewed, isn’t what it used to be, but he’s seeing the worth of the new one.)

\---

He smells tea. His favorite tea, in fact. 

“Good morning,” Hubert says before he sets the tray down. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel-”

“Tired? I thought so. That’s why you’re staying in bed.”

“I-” It would seem Hubert has reached his limit. “Is this necessary?”

“Ferdinand, this is the first time I’ve seen you get a healthy amount of sleep in weeks,” Hubert says. His voice twists interestingly. “Stay in bed.”

“If I got enough rest, should I not be able to get up?”

“You’ve been neglecting your body from the right amount of rest, you need more than one full night.”

He can see Hubert’s point, which is kind of annoying. But it doesn’t make him angry like it would have yesterday. It makes him scoot further under the blankets and really feel how drained he is. 

His mind wanders to the duties he has to do, and he has a moment of panic-

“No,” Hubert says, cupping Ferdinand’s cheek and forcing him to look at him. “I don’t know if you realize this, but you’re ahead in your work. There’s literally nothing for you to do.”

“Oh.” Ferdinand says dumbly, “I see.”

“Oh, he says,” Hubert shakes his head, “Of course you didn’t know. You can be painfully oblivious.”

“You are mean. A cruel man. Horrible.”

“This cruel man made your favorite tea.” Hubert gives him a smile. Ferdinand has always thought Hubert to be handsome - Lorenz had teased him relentlessly for this, - but when he smiles, it’s something he can’t describe. The sheer contrast from how moody he normally looks is astonishing. Ferdinand loves Hubert for who he is, sharp edges and bloody hands, but the gentle moments are some of his favorite things, if only because Hubert rarely lets it out. 

“Dare I ask if I get to drink some of this tea?”

“Mm. I could be convinced.”

“Hubert.”

“What?”

“I thought you were taking care of me, not teasing me.”

“Will you let me take care of you?” Hubert asks. The tone is still light but they both know it’s serious. 

Ferdinand takes a moment, just a slight moment, and he thinks. 

There’s a lot of things that go through his head, about how he’s never actually told someone about his troubles, the things that have plagued him for years, things like how if he goes too long without working on something he gets anxious and doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

He thinks about these and other things. 

And he makes a decision. 

Hubert has changed since the war started, since they became friends, started their relationship. It wasn’t a lot, small concessions he’d done, opening up about how he feels, about how his work can weigh on him, what it’s done to his self-worth. 

Ferdinand, for all that he says, has had the same problems with speaking as Hubert. The only difference is that one of them has tried - and succeeded - at getting better at that.

And so he says, “Yes, if you’ll allow me the same.”

(It goes like this:

He goes to pick up another piece he’s dropped, only for someone else to reach it before him. 

It’s a black, warped hand, one that is normally covered with gloves. it holds out the glass to him, waiting for him to accept the help. 

He takes it. And slots it in place. 

That piece fits, the first one that feels like it really belongs there, and when he steps back to look at himself, there’s a hand clasped in his.)

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my twitter, [@Diddlydang1](https://twitter.com/Diddlydang1)
> 
> Marching band finally finished up (thank fucking god) and so I'll try to post more regularly, but I'm trying to prepare everything for [Ferdibert Week](https://twitter.com/ferdibertweek) so I'm not entirely sure.
> 
> I really struggled with this one but I hope yall enjoy it anyways uwu//
> 
> The next fic I'm uploading will probably be Sylvain/Ferdie I'm sorry but I have to break the streak. And then maybe some fluff because this one sorta hurt huh


End file.
